Working Title
by the cool kids
Summary: And the newsies thought striking was bad? Wait until they get to high school, where they find themselves facing homework, hot lunch, exams, and  GIRLS. This cannot end well. COWRITTEN Keza and Shortie MASSIVE CC you have probably already filled out. RR!
1. Chapter 1

**TO: ALEXANDRA PAIGE **_**CABO, MEXICO**_  
**FROM: MOLLY O'MAHONEY **_**MAINE, UNITED STATES**_  
HOLA WORLD TRAVELER STOP I HAVE GREATEST IDEA STOP COME HOME QUICK STOP WE'RE GONNA BE RICH STOP MEET ME AT THE CAFE AT ONE O'CLOCK SHARP STOP MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T FOLLOWED STOP I AM A GENIUS STOP THIS IS FOR REAL STOP NOT LIKE LAST TIME STOP NO TIME TO WASTE STOP

* * *

It was a good thing, Keza thought, glancing at her watch for what felt like the billionth time, that the café was open twenty-four hours. Finished cups of tea and a nearly empty jar of pickles littered the table she was currently sitting at as evidence of how long she'd been there. She was just about to accept defeat and leave—it was obvious she was being stood up—when she heard a strange whoosh from somewhere outside the café. Moments later, the person she's been waiting for dropped seemingly out of nowhere, covered in dirt and wearing a strange sort of harness. 

"You're late," Keza said irritably, casting another deliberate look at her watch. "I sent that telegram days ago."

"Sorry!" Shortie said, brushing some dirt from her filthy clothes. "I got here as fast as I could. I was in Cabo, you know, ziplining, and it would have been forever before I got a flight out here. I had to talk them into hooking up a special zipline to get me here and, you know, Mexico is pretty far away. At least I didn't have to waste time signing anything. You know Mexico…"

Keza laughed. Now that her accomplice had finally arrived she could relax a bit.

"So, you said it was urgent. Tell me about this amazing idea you had."

Keza sighed, clearly trying to get around the fact that Shortie was leaving a veritable sand dune everywhere she went.

"Alright, fine. You want something? Pickle?" She held the jar out eagerly, causing a fair amount of juice to slosh over the side. Shortie took the last two spears with a grateful nod.

"I absolutely gotta know," Shortie said around a mouthful. "It's all I could think about on the way here... especially those cornfields. The Midwest, man, I'm tellin ya. Not the most exciting thing to zip over."

"Er... no, I'd imagine not," Keza said, trying to shake the mental image before she got too distracted. "Anyway. To business." She cleared her throat and sat a little straighter, folding her hands together in front of her on the cafe table. A brown-haired girl came and replaced one empty teacup for a full one, Keza acknowledged her with a nod and a "Thank you, Meg." Shortie looked up from the comics page she'd somehow procured and gulped. This was going to be serious.

"It's, um... this doesn't have anything to do with..." Shortie began.

"No," Keza said firmly.

"Are you sure? Because I-"

"No," Keza repeated.

"Okay... I mean, I said I was s-"

"Shortie. _No_. Let me explain." She paused again, sipped at her tea, and tried to cover up the fact that she'd burned her tongue by clearing her throat once more. Shortie shifted nervously and wished for more pickles.

"I've had an epiphany," Keza said at last. "Shortie, you've been involved in the Newsies fandom for a long time now. Tell me, what has been your most popular story?"

"Um..." Shortie chewed thoughtfully on her pickle and then swallowed. "New Money, why?"

"What about mine?"

"Damned if I... oh, I guess probably NHS. "Welcome to NHS." ...hey, are you updating that any time soon?"

Keza smiled grimly and shook her head. "What's the connection between those two stories, Shorts?"

"Let's see... they were written years ago... massive casting calls... lots of our friends as characters... stereotypes - oh, and everyone fighting over Mush. Yeah?"

"Think bigger. Generalize."

"..."

"They took place in high school. Shorts, ever since NHS and Outkasts and all those fics started making casting calls and writing about modern day high schools, the fandom has been LOADED with such fics. Everyone writes them, everyone reads them, and everyone is IN them. Case in point: reviews gotten."

"Fair. But it's 2007, Kez. The fandom has changed."

"Aha. That's why we must change, too."

"I don't follow. Hey, Meg? Another jar, please... yeah, kosher. Great."

"Shortie, I've had the most brilliant idea, and no, it's not to update our old and frankly embarrassing high school fics."

"But the reviews...!"

"Screw reviews, Shortie!" Now Keza got to her feet, clearly agitated. "We're past reviews now, kiddo. No, I'm talkin the big time here, I'm talkin the big bucks, and we're gonna make _millions_!"

Shortie stood too, lest she feel left out. "What! How!?"

"Isn't it obvious?!" Silence. "We make the ultimate Newsies and high school fic... but... this is no fic... this is a _movie_."

Shortie stared at her friend a moment and cocked her head.

"A _movie_, Shorts. Do you not hear the italics in my voice!?"

"We make a movie... out of a fanfic idea? Are you sure about this?" Secretly, Shortie was wondering exactly what was in the tea Keza was always drinking.

"Positive."

Both girls sat slowly and looked thoughtfully at each other.

"You have dirt caked on your eyebrow."

"Oh, thanks."

"Other one."

"Oh, thanks."

"Okay, listen. We have to split up. There's a lot of stuff to get done, and only a limited amount of time in which to do it." Now Keza lowered her voice and leaned forward a little. "_We don't want anyone to steal our idea_." Shortie nodded seriously and then crunched into a brand new pickle, which may or may not have ruined the mood.

"We have to get together our cast, crew, and set, not to mention write the script, find financial backers..." Keza started to ramble, ticking things off on her fingers as she went, and quickly running out of fingers.

"You send out the casting call," Shortie said, a plan slowly forming in her mind. "You know that's the only surefire way to get an audience, not to mention support. Find the newsies, we can't do this without them. You go out West, I'll stick around in the East."

"Alright. But… something's missing…"

"You're right. W're going to have to go after the NJL, that is, whoever is left standing from the venerable Newsie Justice League. I'm sure they'll be able to help us, at least in the financial sector. I know I can find us a set, too, and maybe some old trailers."

"Right. We meet back here in exactly two weeks in order to preside over the auditions. Be on time, please, and be tidy. We want to make a good impression on our potential cast."

Shortie nodded in agreement, and both girls let out a breath. They stared across the table at each other, munching on pickles, and finally Shortie nodded once more and said, "Break." They got up, left the cafe, and went in opposite directions down the street.

Meg, who hadn't been paying attention, noticed the girls leaving and ran to the door in vain.

"Guys? Kez - Keza! SHORTIE! GUYS! You have to pay! Guys, you can't just -- oh, bully."

* * *

_from _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com **

_t__o _Shortie **- capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _update from the field

--

Hallo, love.

Am currently typing to you from under the covers of a certain California home. Am hoping that laptop light does not give me away. Was trapped in unfortunate situation in attempt to convince Pie-eater to be in new movie. He said "a little fun, for old time sake?" I said "thanks but no, am under a tight schedule" he brought out the boxed wine, here I am.

Just a quick update but wanted to let you know. Will be moving up the coast with Pie to track down a few of the others who scattered West. You still in NYC? You may have to get some people off Broadway, be delicate.

Uh oh someone is waking up. Promises he knows the way to Santa Fe, but I think I'll give him his plane ticket now and ride off into the sunset alone, if you catch.

Peace.

Keza

* * *

_from _Shortie **- ****capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _in new york

--

Kez,

Not gonna lie, your first paragraph brought back fond memories of the golden days of our correspondence when you were hiding your laptop from entirely different people for entirely different reasons. Glad to hear things are going well with Pie and don't worry about getting off schedule; boxed wine is brutal. It happens to the best of us.

I'm still in New York, tackling the boroughs one by one. You'd be surprised at how many of the boys have stuck around. Found Mush my first day here. Actually, he found me is more like it; seems the kid you commissioned to deliver the telegram to me in Mexico has been spending a lot of time in Manhattan, met up with Mush, shared a few stories, my name came up, the rest is history. Anyway, he's letting me stay with him. He's already agreed to sign on to our project and he's helping me rally up the rest of the boys in the area. We've already talked to Skittery, Bumlets, Snoddy and David. They're all in. Tomorrow we're hitting Brooklyn. Spot Conlon is supposedly still there and, strangely enough, Racetrack has apparently moved down there as well.

Someone, I'm don't know who but I'm suspecting Snitch, has leaked the news of our movie. It's getting a bit insane; I can barely go outside without getting resumes shoved in my face from every direction. Looks like we'll have a good turnout. Thought I'd give you warning in case the rumors spread out west.

Good luck and keep me posted.

Shorts

* * *

_from _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Shortie **- ****capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _planes, trains, more wine

--

Shortie,

Hello and more apologies for my rather unprofessional message. I'm feeling quite a bit better now, and Pie is on the way to meet up with you and whatever group you've so far assembled.

At present time I find myself in the dining car of a southbound train. As promised, the roast duck was fantastic. Perfect glaze, but that's neither here nor there.

Oh, I nearly forgot. I ran into Swifty while I was getting on the train, seems he's on his way to Mexico after some deal gone sour. I will admit that he was loathe to meet me, never mind find himself in the sleeping quarters across from mine. Apparently, he hasn't forgiven me for his last, rather unsavory role in... oh, something or other, I can't keep track. I claimed ignorance, but it's hard to do such a thing when your penname is, ah, plastered all over said work.

I digress. Swifty and I have been getting along just fine, though not without our little misadventures and misunderstandings here and there. He's rather like my own Cary Grant, you know? The good news is that I managed to convince him to join our project (over a bottle of Merlot, no less), and he agreed to catch a flight from Santa Fe. I promised we would make his protection a priority, so I'm counting on you to line up the necessary bribes, guards, etc, etc.

Well, we near our destination. I must admit that I'm a bit apprehensive about finding one Mr. Jack Kelly. I suppose it's possible that he is a fine, upstanding young businessman, but I can't shake the feeling that he was the one leading the gang that has been trying to sack the train for the past eighteen hours.

Remind me to elaborate on that later.

Sincerely,

-Keza

* * *

_from _Shortie **- ****capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _partayyyy!1

--

Keza,

Well, things have gotten highly out of control. Between the boys that you've sent over and the ones I've rounded up myself, there's barely any room to move around in Mush's tiny apartment. This doesn't seem to bother _them_ any though, they're all having a big reunion. It's been a raging party for the past three days that doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon. I can barely think. I've taken refuge in the bathroom to get this letter out to you before I give up and just join in on the festivities.

Someone's knocking, I should go before he bangs down the door. I'd like to hear what's going on with Jack. If the stories the boys here have been telling me are true, then it sounds like you really have your work cut out for you. Good luck and I hope you can join us soon enough.

Shortie

PS. Pie says hi

* * *

_from _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Shortie **- ****capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _the wild west!

--

Captain Short --

AMAZING NEWS! I had stepped down from the train and onto the station platform when who should dash by and snatch my parasol from my very hands but JACK KELLY. That fiend! This, however, is not the AMAZING NEWS. (!). I was standing with my carpet bag in one hand and shaking the other after the scoundrel when I heard a familiar and unmistakable sound.

Reluctantly, I turned from pursuing Mr. Kelly and found myself face to face with none other than Misprint and Shade. The two of them were dressed in all manner of high boots and baggy shirts and thick golden necklaces and quickly summed up how they had traveled down the coast from Vancouver, pirating as they went, and stealing away dear Rosie. She, apparently, was getting changed.

Glad as I was to see our old friends, I had to leave them with just an invitation to join us in the East, and then I ditched my bag and dashed after Mr. Kelly, heels and petticoats be damned! (I will never get used to the strange dress code in Santa Fe, has nothing changed in 100 years? I suspect Mr. Kelly to be behind it.)

Enough with the story, here are the facts. I wined and dined Mr. Kelly (emphasis on the former) and discovered that little Boots has been with him this whole time! I let them coax me into a friendly game of hold 'em and was, unfortunately, unable to "hold" onto my petticoats (yet another story for another day) but was able to regain their trust and to secure a promise. They'll be there, but insist on traveling via Pony Express.

I suppose you must pick your battles.

Yours,

the Kezinator

ps- did you ever find Racetrack?

* * *

_from _Shortie **- ****capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _snyder smells (still)

--

Keza,

Well, just as I was told, Race was living in Brooklyn. He says it was in order to be closer to Cheapshed, but I can't help but wonder if the rumors are true... I wanted to ask, but even though he looks just as young as ever, (a good thing since he's playing a high schooler) this didn't feel like something I wanted to ask Spot.

The troops are pretty much all rallied at this point. girls are dropping by in groups nearly every hour to drop off resumes. They're all starting to blend together at this point. I'm not sure if it's because I've seen so many or if it's because they actually all are that similar.

Oh, interesting story. A couple nights ago, we got a visit from, wait for it, Warden Snyder. He's a cop now. No, i have no idea how he got out of jail, it's not like i sat down and had a conversation with him. Anyway, there was a noise complaint so he came investigating and he'd heard of the project. Told me he'd drag me off to the refuge if I didn't give him a part. I'm sure it was an empty threat as he clearly is no longer in charge of the refuge, but I accepted anyway. I'm sure we'd have room for him as an evil principal or janitor or something.

Looks like we'll be ready for action soon enough. I've just contacted Denton to set up a press conference. This is surely one for the papers.

Shortie

* * *

_from _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Shortie ** - ****capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _hate chickens.

--

Shortie,

Everything seems to be in order, then? I'm glad to hear that the casting call got such a positive response, we'll have to start the auditions immediately after I return.

One more bit of good news, then I'll have to let you go. I'm in a bit of a tight spot, crammed between twenty old chicken crates on the back of a Chevy pickup... yet I can still get a wireless connection; marvelous, isn't it?

I digress. Sitting behind me is none other than Hilby, former fandom recluse, I'm sure you remember her fondly. Well, I've been catching her up on the recent happenings, and for some reason she couldn't stop giggling when she read your last email. Must have been the bit about Snyder.

I'll try to swing by and grab Frog and Dragonfly on the way up the East coast, I've decided to dispatch Hilby to fetch Gothic and TSB, as she can deal with the Georgian humidity much better than I.

I suppose any newsies we've thus missed will wander over in due time, Denton has that... charismatic way about him. Stay in touch, we shall be reunited any moment!

Keza

* * *

_from _Shortie **- capnshort(at)gmail(dot)com**

_to _Keza **- kezinator(at)gmail(dot)com**

_subject _this is it!

--

Keza,

Don't worry about D-fly. Found her at the Short Hills mall the other day and she was more than happy to accompany me back to the city. If you're looking for a better mode of transportation, I'd like to remind you of Rhys and her giant van that she's willing (or at least was willing five years ago) to drive around the country to New York.

Denton has agreed to help us out and he's currently rounding up the leading newspaper and TV journalists in the area. We're holding a press conference at Irving Hall one week from tomorrow. This is a big deal to a lot of people; most can't wait to see the return of high school fics: movie style. I hope you can make it! Please hurry.

Until then,

Shortie

* * *

"I feel like I could take a never ending shower." Keza stood winding her wet hair into a bun and looking not a little anxious. 

"Kez, you just took a shower," Shortie glanced up from her clipboard to remind her friend. "And you only got out because my hot water tank is not the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Anyway, you ready?"

Keza muttered something about "not long enough" but steeled herself toward the double doors. "The auditions had to be in a high school gymnasium, eh?"

"Well… well, yeah, actually."

"Alright. Let's do this."

Shortie flashed a winning grin and let the clipboard fall to her side. "Bomb."

* * *

**Next chapter:** The auditions, aka reading through of profiles! (That's _you_, dear reader!) Press releases! More emails and/or voicemails! General debauchery! Is it too early for a cast party? 

**Note: **The casting call is still open, if you're interested, simply leave a review indicating such, and we'll send a form over to you right quick! Everyone will get in, eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

**PLANS ANNOUNCED FOR MAJOR MOTION PICTURE STARRING "NEWSIES" CAST  
**By Brian Denton  
_Staff Writer_

-

Shortie and Keza, the masterminds behind the NJL, which rose to fandom fame in the early 2000's, are at it again. For weeks, there have been signs of something big to come: a major casting call was released and secret correspondences between the two were leaked to the public, whether this was intentional or not is still unknown. Despite these hints, no one, not even those in the duo's inner circle, appeared to have any idea of what was to come. As of yesterday, the secret is out.

In a massive press conference open to all the major news sources in the area, Keza and Shortie made it known that a major motion picture based on the high school fics that were very popular a few years ago is in the works. "It isn't a movie," Shortie informed the audience, "It's a film."

"We feel very strongly about not compromising the integrity of this work of art," Keza agreed. "We know how important this project is to fans of those involved in the film and those who were in the fandom many years ago. This is not going to be just a stupid comedy of fluff. We're placing great importance on the plot and on making true to life, well rounded recognizable characters."

However, when asked about the plot of the project, both girls were quick to change the subject to the actors they had cast. "We got all of the original boys!" Shortie said, "It helps that we've kept in touch with all of them from the days when we used… er, cast them in our own high school stories. They were more than happy to be involved once again."

The girls, however, weren't so easily swayed. "Of course there were those who hadn't left, but alas they were the minority," Keza told us. "We spent more time trying to track down the girls than the boys and unfortunately, we weren't able to find all of them and several of those we were able to contact didn't seem quite into the project, hence the major casting call.

"We couldn't be more excited about finding a new crew of girls, though!" Shortie continued with a big smile, "Seriously, we want to see as many people as possible!" Auditions will be held on [date in Irving Hall at [address. They are looking for girls who look between the ages of fourteen and eighteen and would like those interested to bring a résumé and headshot.

The project is being financed solely by Joseph Pulitzer IV, the independently wealthy great grandson of the famous newspaper mogul. Pulitzer, the girls say, is supportive of every aspect of the project. "Our budget is nearly unlimited," Keza said, "Joe was a big fan of high school stories and trusts us to turn out the best film possible. He also wants to be involved in any way he can. Look for a cameo from **_(continued on page 7)_**

* * *

"This is a nightmare."

"Hmm? Oh," Keza looked up from her notepad and brushed a few doodle-filled sheets to the floor surreptitiously.

"What the - were those giraffes? Kez, have you been paying even the LEAST bit of attention for the last two hours?"

"Sorry, is that a trick question?"

"Ahem."

Both girls froze and faced front again. A tall girl with short, messy brown hair was looking at them expectantly, her arms crossed.

"Hello," Shortie said brightly. "Can we help you?"

"Um, yeah, actually, you called me up like five minutes ago. Am I going to audition or what? I have a rehearsal to get to, you know."

"Er, sorry about that," Keza said, retrieving her "notes" in an attempt to look official. "Time flies," she added lamely.

"I bet," the girl muttered, looking none-too-impressed.

"Aha!" Shortie cried, triumphantly tugging something from the bottom of a large stack of paper. "Tara?"

"Call me Spin."

"Right. Says here that you are a thespian... smoker..." she paused and squinted up at the girl. Keza, who had been reading over her shoulder, mimicked the gesture.

"What!" Spin snapped.

"Just checking," Shortie explained. "Says here you have gauged ears."

"Yeah, so what if I do?"

"Oh, no, we just wanted to make sure it was true," said Keza. "We've, ah, had some trouble in the past with false claims and the like. We just want to know that we're hiring exactly who we think we're hiring."

"For example, purple eyes," Shortie continued.

"I think they prefer "violet.""

"It doesn't matter, the point is, the girls don't have 'em, despite whatever this," here she jabbed angrily at Spin's already crumpled resume, "reports."

"Well, my eyes are blue..." Spin began, but Shortie dismissed her with a wave.

"Don't worry about it. Get to rehearsal. NEXT!"

"What? What does that even mean? I didn't even show you anything!"

"You'll do," Keza said with a smile. "Besides, you're an oldie, you know what's what. We've seen some of your stuff. With Stress. I think."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Show up at the set next Tuesday and... you should probably bring your own lunch. We're still working out the catering details."

Spin, still unsure about whether she'd won or lost the battle, finally just rolled her eyes and made for the door, ready to be out in the fresh air and away from the throngs of teenage girls.

"Kez, I - Keza, those don't even look like giraffes, I mean, come on..."

* * *

"Oh my god, it's been five hours, and we haven't even put a dent in that line!"

"This is hopeless."

"We really... really... didn't plan well, did we?"

(Silence.)

"I mean, since we're being honest."

"Since we're being honest, no, we did not plan very well."

Keza and Shortie were attempting to enjoy their fifteen minute break, which was a little difficult, considering that said break was taking place in a broom closet, and said girls were ducking beneath the door so that said line of hopefuls would leave them alone.

Someone tapped sharply on the window, causing Keza and Shortie to start and knock heads. A shock of red hair greeted them as they looked up.

"Whew," said Shortie. "It's just Ali."

Ali cracked open the door, trying (and failing) to hide a grin. "That was great, guys," she said dryly. "The slapstick, perfect timing. Are you putting that in your movie?"

"Maybe," Keza said sorely.

"Well, anyway, just here to remind you that you really need to get back on track, I know it's only day one, but we're trying to be efficient here. And since you wouldn't let anyone else audition the prospects..." she trailed off and gave the pair a pointed glare, reminding them exactly what she thought of that decision.

"Bully," grumbled Keza. "Righto. Up and attem! Here we come! Day's only just begun!" she jumped to her feet and slid past Ali and out the door, then marched to the judge's table and sat, back straight, and took a freshly sharpened pencil from behind her ear. "Next!" she chirped.

Shortie and Ali stared in disbelief.

"Sorry," Ali said after a moment, "I know this doesn't really have anything to do with the issue at hand, but... where on earth did that pencil come from?"

* * *

"Malone," the petite girl said with a nervous smile. "Belle. Backstage M-"

"Stage?" Keza asked, looked up from the desk with a frown. "You don't look like-"

"Backstage, dumbass," Shortie said. "Stagey, right?"

"With a 'y'," Stagey said helpfully.

"Right, sorry," Keza said. "Are you another one of those thespians?"

"Um, not really, I mean, I do set design, and costumes, sometimes, but-"

"Keza," Shortie said, with a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. "We're auditioning for a movie, which, believe it or not, involves acting. Of course she's a thespian, just like all of the girls have been thespians, or else why would they be auditioning for a movie ?"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Well, I meant, was her character a thespian, or-"

"-really, I'm not much of a thespian, I've never even-"

"Irrelevant. Irrelevant! Your profile says that you were in "Fast Times at Duane Street High." Sounds like an oldschool high school fic to me."

"It is. Was."

"Was?"

"Well, I mean, it was never finished... hasn't been updated in over two years." Stagey looked slightly guilty at this admission, but the two girls behind the desk were unperturbed.

"We would expect nothing less," Shortie said with a smile. "Listen, you're just what this story needs."

"Movie," Keza corrected.

"Movie. Swing by the set next Tuesday morning, don't be late."

"Great! Thanks!" Stagey grinned, and ran off with a wave.

"Such nice girls," Keza mused, making an exaggerated checkmark on her notes. "NEXT!"

* * *

"Shortie, I cannot tell a lie, if I have to hear about one more tough girl with a heart of fluff-"

"Kez..."

"-who is prickly on the outside, but deathly loyal to her friends-"

"Keza..."

"-and hides behind a brick wall of an exterior because of her troubled past-"

"Keza, really -"

"-which will soon come back to haunt her-"

"Are you done?"

"Maybe, yeah."

"Good, because this is our last one for the day. And then drinks are on me."

"Hooray," Keza said listlessly. "You say that as if you expect me to survive one more of these dumb auditions."

"Excuse me, Miss, but I do recall the open casting call business to be your idea."

"That is false, and you know it!"

Shortie ignored the other girl. "Ellie Summers? Pegasus?"

"Thaaat's me." An athletic looking girl with long black hair stepped forward to the desk. "Um, sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, but did I hear you guys say that I was the last one?"

"Yeah, for today."

"Right... well, I was just thinking that maybe you'd want to tell them-" she jerked her head back in the direction of the long line of girls and boys that wound around the gymnasium.

Keza and Shortie let out identical sighs.

"ALI!" Shortie yelled, and the petite redhead appeared.

"Jesus, I was like five feet behind you, no need to scream," she grumbled.

"Sorry. Listen, we're stopping for the day after Peg here, so can you be a doll and tell all those kids that they have to go home?"

Ali's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, I seem to have missed the part where I become your personal assistant."

"Ali," Keza said sweetly. "Please, please, pretty please, would you do this for us, and keep in mind that Shortie is buying everyone drinks after we close down?"

Ali hesitated, wavered, and broke. "Fine. But just this once. If you want a personal assistant, then hire one. I'm here to produce this shitshow, not to get you coffee!" She stalked off and Keza and Shortie returned their attention to the task at hand.

"Sorry 'bout that," said Keza. "Alright." She paused, scanning over a sheet on her clipboard. To her right, Shortie was frozen with a look that was something between confusion, shame, and irritation balanced on her face. Needless to say, it was not very attractive.

"You run track," Keza continued, "you're interested in Skittery, and you're polite. I like you. Shortie? What d'ya say? She was in "These Brutal Streets," did you ever read that? It was funny. Shortie? Hellooo?"

"Hmm? What? Yes, polite, Skittery, um, Tuesday, 8am, sharp!" Shortie stood and smiled brightly. "Thanks for coming!"

Pegasus looked to Keza, who just shrugged. "You're in," she said. "Um, sorry, it's been a long day. We look forward to seeing you next week, though." She stood, too, and offered a smile of her own. "Don't forget to pack a lunch. We'll provide the snacks."

"Okaay," Pegasus said, backing slowly toward the door. The line was beginning to filter out that way, some looking none too pleased about it.

"I'm exhausted," Keza said to Shortie, turning, "but you're absolutely loony."

Shortie stared blankly at the mess of papers on the table, then shoved the lot into a surprisingly professional-looking briefcase and made for the door. "Drinks!" she cried, and Keza hurried to catch up.

* * *

_**CELEB!**_ **Special Feature!!!  
**_How I Got My Big Break!!! One Girl's Story  
_By Jessa Rhian

-

It was 4:30 in the morning when I arrived at Irving Hall only to find that I was not, as I had expected to be, one of the first there. Even though it was bitter cold out and it hadn't even begun to get warm out, there was already a large crowd waiting behind the flimsy looking fence that had been put there to temporarily keep us away from the doors.

I quickly secured a place in line—a smart choice, since the crowd behind me was growing larger by the second—and began studying the people around me. Even though it was absurdly early, everyone seemed to be just as awake and alert as I was. Some were involved in deep conversations about what parts they wanted to play and who their ideal love interests were, while others were loudly rehearsing or braggingly wondering which of their stunningly unique features would most impress the directors. The girl directly in front of me, however, was sobbing hysterically and crawling on the ground, apparently looking for something, while her friend awkwardly tried to comfort her.

"Lost contact," the friend shrugged when I asked what had happened.

"You haven't seen it, have you?" the girl asked, turning to me. She had one brown eye and one ridiculous looking purple one. I had to bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

"Annie…" the friend said.

"I told you not to call me that, Tinker!" Contact-girl shrieked, "Call me by my newsie name!"

Tinker sighed, "Fine, Amethyst."

Annie, or Amethyst, burst into a fresh batch of tears. "I'm called Amethyst because of my purple eyes! My résumé says I have purple eyes! I can't go in there! They'll never cast me!" she sobbed, and sprinted away from the line before her friend could say anything.

"Aren't you going to go after her?" I asked, since Tinker didn't seem to be moving.

She shrugged, "Just met her twenty minutes ago. Less competition for us at least. And if they're serious about taking everyone, I'd rather not have that crazy in the movie with me."

I couldn't help but wonder if they were serious about taking everyone. It wasn't even 6:00AM yet and already there were more girls than I'd ever seen in one place at the same time.

Eventually, after a really long wait, the front doors of the theater opened and all hell broke loose. Everyone was screaming, pushing and shoving, trying to get a glimpse of the directors or whichever boy (since a couple major ones were rumored to have been inside) was coming outside.

Instead, it turned out to be a frazzled looking redhead holding a clipboard. Her eyes widened at the size of the crowd and she muttered something under her breath.

"Excuse me!" she called out, but since nobody recognized her, she'd lost the attention of the crowd. Still muttering, she pulled a megaphone out from behind the theater doors.

As soon as she had everyone's attention, she told us that they were going to let the first hundred or so inside. The line cut off literally right behind me! We were led into the green room, which was barely big enough to fit all of us. One by one, the girls went in for their auditions. There didn't seem to be any sort a time limit when it came to the auditions. Some girls were in the theater for a while, while others returned after mere seconds.

"That wasn't an audition!" one raged, "I was in there for like, one minute! They didn't ask me any questions, they didn't want to see me do anything, they just told me to come back next Tuesday. What bullshit!"

However, for some of the girls, the length of the audition was the least of their worries. "They didn't seem impressed at all about how I led Queens in a victory over Brooklyn in the last borough war," one girl told us dejectedly. "Maybe I should have mentioned that I'm Spot's sister?"

Finally, after another absurdly long wait, it was my turn.

"Watch out," the redhead told me before I went in. "Shortie's not a morning person and Keza's already had far too much tea. It's a bad combination."

"Ali!" an irritable voice called from inside the theater, "are you sending the next one or not!"

Ali rolled her eyes, "they don't pay me nearly enough for this," she muttered, pushing me into the room, where the two directors sat, bickering, at a folding table covered in pads, pens, and steaming cups.

"Hi," I said awkwardly, as I climbed up to the stage, "I'm—"

"Stress!" Shortie cried, putting down her cup. "Look Kez, it's Stress!"

"I see that, Shortie," she snapped, waving a **_(cont. on page 107)_**

****

* * *

**Note from the Authors:** Wow, we are so wicked sorry for the delay in updating. I'm not going to name names, but _one_ of us had her part of the chapter done a week and a half ago, and the other is lame. And had internet troubles. Blah blah blah. Anyway, stick with us! We've decided to attempt to set deadlines for ourselves and update once a week. We just have to decide on the day, and, um, when to implement it. In the meantime, keep an eye out, or check our profile for updates. Thanks for reading, and please review!  
-Keza and Shortie****


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